See here for what wasn’t so peachy at three months of age.
Mine.
1. Those first nights together, except for the very first night which was spent with you wide awake for about eight hours constantly feeding (and I am not even joking and didn’t we think we had another ‘killer’ baby on our hands), where we cocooned together in your sister’s bed (so she could keep her infectious self away with her infectious father in the parental bedroom). And getting to know you, all by myself in the lamplight when we woke for you to feed, and that feeling of complete intimacy and isolation in the dead of night, when we may just as well have been living all alone on another planet.
2. Watching your milestones unfold. It still boggles my mind that babies’ development is so predictable. Why do you discover your hands now? And why do you start smiling then? And how did you roll over?
3. The joy, the utter joy your sister expresses at your existence. And finally at three months you were able to show your joy in return, at her existence.
4. Your brown eyes, and as the days go by it becomes increasingly clear to everyone that they are indeed brown eyes, that they’re not budging, that they’re as brown as mine.
5. When you finally start to enjoy baths and we’re no longer participating in a ritual of grievance for you each day. You kick and kick for all you’re worth. You’re a fish, boy, a fish. And now you love baths.
6. When my sister comes to meet you and stays for a week. She falls in love with you instantly and she holds you and tears up. She gets up to you early in the mornings so I can return to bed for another urgent half hour or so, and even when you explode poo all over yourself and everything around you she doesn’t dare ruin my little sleep-in. She says when she holds you that you get an expression on your face like “are you authorised?”.
7. The clothes you’ve been given. They are adorable. And I’ve been made to realise my hypocrisy when I said that I don’t like little boys dressed as little men. Because I love you dressed in a Threadless t-shirt and sweat pants and that is exactly how your father and your uncles dress. Turns out when I said I don’t like little boys dressed like little men I meant the kind of men’s clothes I don’t like men dressed in either – football jerseys and chambray shirts and polo shirts with the collars turned up.
8. Taking you away for your first holiday. At the beach. With one of my closest friends and our children. Dipping your toes into the sand, walking home in the evening and watching you in the sling watching the stars. Seeing the way the other children fall in love with you. Laying you on a picnic blanket on the sand so you can hear the waves, and your sister squealing with delight as she springs over the waves.
9. The way you so quickly get to know me and your life. The way you can anticipate the steps towards a breastfeed. The way you don’t worry so much anymore that something you want won’t happen ever again. Like being picked up, or being fed. The way you roll yourself across the bed to find me.
10. You smile and smile and smile.. at everyone. I can’t believe it. You are so cheerful. You’re completely sweet. You’re terribly charming. You melt people’s hearts – it is not only women who stop to admire you, but men do too. Your father and I cannot believe that we are capable of producing such sunshine.
11. Other people can hold you, which makes it much easier for you to be admired, and much easier for me to get a break.
12. Loving my body. Its ability to expand so impressively to hold you and likewise, its ability to snap back, more or less, into a non-pregnant form. OK, those months and months where I was too tired to exercise while pregnant sure show now but apart from that, not bad, not bad at all.
13. Watching you watch the world. Outside, on a blanket, in the sun, with no nappy on, and you stop to watch the breeze move the leaves.
14. You have, in the last month or so, really started to cuddle back and it is ever so lovely. You wrap your chubby little hands around my neck and sink your face into me. It is beyond description. It is so beautiful.
15. You sleep through the night, a couple of times even, and isn’t this really really early for such a milestone? It is compared to last time. We seriously didn’t know babies could be this easy. Thank you, thank you.
His.
1. Your cuddles.
2. Bath time – watching you go ‘cracker baby’.
3. Seeing the differences between you and your sister.
4. Watching you and Lauca play together, like the way you sit and look into each other’s eyes and laugh.
5. Finding this time around as a father with a newborn a lot more rewarding, you engage with me and are happy to see me where as Lauca was always sad to be apart from her Mummy at this age.
6. Being able to make you laugh by woofing at you like a dog.
7. That feeling, though I fought getting my hopes up, that you were turning out to be an easier baby.
8. Finding that you had my dimple on your cheek, but we had to wait until you got incredibly fat to be able to see it.
9. Tickling your thighs.
10. Watching you blow yourself a milky moustache with all your raspberry blowing.
Alright, if you must. Compare Cormac with Lauca at the same age.
[...] 20, 2009 by blue milk See also here for what was just grand at three months of [...]
Oh, that happy baby smile! Totally brightened my day.
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I really remember that other-planet feeling. Amazing. I’d have another baby just for that, I think.
And loving my body! It’s great – my body probably never looked worse (taking Cosmo as my yardstick) but I never felt more powerful and grateful and happy with it than in those first few months after it did such a magical job.
It’s funny you mentioned he is such a smiley baby; I thought what a great big lovely smile he has when I was looking at the pic you put up of him.
Looks like Lauca, too